


Take a Walk

by BlueThorne



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Dadgil Week (Devil May Cry), Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueThorne/pseuds/BlueThorne
Summary: Post-DMC5; While visiting Fortuna, Vergil tries hard to understand his son in his own misguided Vergil way.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 70





	Take a Walk

**Author's Note:**

> Finally writing for Dadgil Week! This one's for the Day 1 prompts "Broken" and "Sharing." Idk I just really love Vergil being kind of the worst even when he's trying not to be.

Fortuna was beautiful like a Renaissance masterpiece painted on a rotting canvas. Many of the centuries-old structures I’d seen during my last visit had been replaced at some point, yet they were made to look the same. Fresh coats of paint and too-smooth rock replaced what had once been weathered. Nero called them “repairs,” but I couldn’t make much sense of why they had bothered to upkeep those old traditions. Even with the knowledge that their god was a sham, they still didn’t wish to see change. 

“Why do you still live here?” I asked Nero as he flicked remnants of demon gore from his sword. “Just to patrol for weaklings that that?”

His eyes remained on his sword. “I live here because I live here. Most people don’t spend half their lives wandering around Hell, you know.” He hadn’t looked at me much since I arrived.

After a quick scrub of his sleeve over a remaining patch of blood, he turned his back to me and continued walking through the false moniker of an old town. Perhaps continuing to follow him was rude. He clearly didn’t wish to speak to me, but I did not care. He  _ would  _ speak to me. I was his father. That must have meant something. 

In a few long strides, I caught up to his side once again. “You’re saying this is your permanent home then. I suppose I just can’t understand why you would choose to remain in a place where there is nothing worthwhile for you.”

His brow pinched, but his eyes remained forward. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You run what you call a ‘remote’ business, yet you always return here. It seems a waste of time. The demons here are all fairly weak with the Hell Gate sealed. There’s no real reason to come back. There is nothing you haven’t seen. Nothing here changes. You could do better elsewhere.” 

He hissed an exhale while scratching a hand through his hair. “You are just awful at conversation, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told, but I see nothing incorrect in what I’ve said.” 

He opened his mouth to respond, but his teeth snapped shut. His lips twitched with a snarl. He was always so temperamental when he was around me. I’d seen him smile and laugh with others - the soft-spoken girl, Nico and even Dante on rare occasions. At the best of times, he looked to me with disinterest or a sneer.

His pace picked up to something just short of a run. Though I shouldn’t have bothered, I raced to keep up with him. If he was really so angry, he should have fought me again. I would have taken no issue with it. 

The taller buildings and shops of the marketplace faded into a string of homes that should have been identical. I was certain they had been at one time. Unlike the gleaming tourist square, only some of the homes had been rebuilt. Around one out of every four had a wall knocked out or a room collapsed in on itself. Nature had begun to reclaim them. The pristine yards of the upkept homes gave way to abandoned neighbors with untamed grasses and vines crawling up broken walls.

“Why are these left in such a state?” I asked, unbothered by the pace. 

Nero gave a short yell that was ragged with a growl. Giving up, he slowed to a walk once again and allowed me to regain my place at his side. In a test of who could be more stubborn, I always made sure I won. 

“Dante told you about the Savior incident, right?” he asked. Exhaustion crept into his face, his eyes heavy with age beyond his years. 

“He did. I understand why they’re destroyed, but why do they remain? You’ve clearly rebuilt the city.”

“Well, no one lives in them anymore.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he shrugged. “Fixing the city already took so much time and money and energy, and the houses, well… If there was no one asking for them to be rebuilt, it was easier just to leave them for now.”

“Are these homes from the parishioners who left upon realizing it was all a scam then?” I asked, expecting I’d offend him again with how defensive he was of the place. Instead, he nodded. 

“Some of them, yeah, but most people stayed. A lot of people’s families had lived here for generations, and we had some others who came to escape a much worse place. The Order wasn’t good, but… Fortuna is.”

I wasn’t sure I could agree with that when the whole island sat atop a massive Hell Gate, but I could not deny the humble comforts and beauty of the place. 

“Then you mean that most of those who lived in these homes died during the incident,” I said as he watched his feet, forcing him forward. 

“Yeah. We had a lot of bodies. Couldn’t even recover them all. I pulled a lot of them from these houses, some in pieces.” He swallowed hard enough that I could see the pain in his eyes. “Some only pieces.” 

“Then why leave them standing?” I asked. “If they’re simply reminders of a time of suffering, then rebuild them or wipe them away as if they never existed.” 

Though he hadn’t looked up in some time, his steps slowed to a halt and turned to face another ruined home like he’d known his path already. 

“We do plan to clear them, but it’ll take time, and some people don’t want them gone. Some people say it’s all we have to remember the ones we lost. I guess they just don’t want to let go.” He frowned at the home in front of him. Though it was much like the others, the flowerbed along the front remained pristine. Pale blue flowers filled the damp soil at even intervals, and none of the choking weeds from the yard touched them. 

“This is where I used to live,” Nero said. “Me and Kyrie and Credo.” 

“Credo was… Kyrie’s brother?” I attempted off a vague recollection of hearing the girl mention him. 

“Yeah, but he was mine too. At least, he used to say that. I used to tell him off for it. Always said I didn’t have any family, and he’d just shrug it off.”

The man must have been dead then. I recognized the look in Nero’s face from seeing Dante when he mentioned our mother. His stare looked back over years and regrets. Just like my brother, Nero was too human for his own good. 

“If you didn’t want family, then I don’t see why you bothered interfering with me in the first place,” I said more out of curiosity than true insult. 

He breathed a quiet sigh that added more weight to his shoulders. “I did want a family. I was just too stubborn to say it, and then he was gone. Maybe if I’d just-” He grit his teeth to stop the thought and turned away from the house. “I just didn’t want anyone else to go through that. You and Dante are so fucking stubborn. If you want to go find somewhere to die, then go do it. I don’t see why you’re following me around if you hate it here so much.”

“I don’t hate it.” That much was the truth. Despite all its oddities, Fortuna was an island that bled warmth and smelled of the sea. I could guess why Father saw fit to protect it. He’d always had a fascination with the beauty of the human world. “I suppose I just wonder why you don’t hate it. I would have thought its charms would have worn off long ago for you.”

“Sure, but it’s home." He kept his head down, fists clenched at his sides. "Maybe that’s stupid. I don’t care what you think.”

It may have been stupid, but I couldn't deny that I understood it. I was the one who forced a long-destroyed home back into existence. I’d held onto the image of pristine fields just as Nero’s ruined house maintained its flower beds. 

“I suppose it’s nice to have a place to return,” I said. “I’ve spent so much of my life wandering that I must have forgotten that.” 

“Well, then find a place,” Nero sighed, roughing a hand through his short hair. “Sit still. Quit following me around like some lost dog.”

“Where would you recommend?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t know. You’ve seen more of the world outside of this island than I have. Pick your poison, but if you’re going to stick around here, you have to pitch in and help rebuild. Everyone does.”

Looking back at the remnants of his home, I nodded. “Very well. Where should I start?”

Seeing him look up at me in shock was not the same as the casual happiness others received, but at least he'd looked at me. It was a start. 


End file.
